He always looked at me like that - always. Like he didn’t give a shit about me - or about what we were doing. But, he kept coming back. Kept knocking on my door, on his way home from work. Kept pulling off this shirt, letting his gut hang out a bit, then yanking down his pants and flopping out his cock.
He never made me choke because he never went that deep. But he stretched my mouth so much I was starting to get pains in my jaw.
He didn’t care about that, either. As soon as he was hard and as soon as he was wet enough, he’d say the same thing, every time.
And I would. I’d turn around - either on the floor, in the hallway, where it mostly happened, or on the sofa, when he may have had a better day than normal, so he’d come into my apartment and look around before doing me.
He gave the same sneer, always.
It was too bright for him - too clean - too well designed.
Then I’d turn around and he’d push me over the cushion or just get down behind me and push it in. It was never mean - never cruel - but it was never kind, either. Just a function of his masculinity: the need to unload, to unwind, to let loose.
He would fuck me hard. Always.
I couldn’t tell if he was angry that he was still fucking me, angry that he was still coming around, or that he just liked to fuck hard. He never said anything. He just floored me and fucked me, dumped his load in me, then pulled out, stood up, usually swaying, sometimes a little sweaty, eyes a bit glazed. I’d learned to catch his signals - interpret them. If his hand flicked one way, I was back down on my knees, licking him clean (though, to be clear, I was ALWAYS prepared for him). If he motioned to the bathroom, I got up and got a clothe, toweling him off.
Sometimes he would pat me on the head - most times he would just turn and split.
He didn’t even text me anymore. I just knew to be there - ready - to take care of him, on his way home from work.
Then one day, he didn’t come. I was anxious - upset at myself at how much I LOVED it - how much I needed it - how much I MISSED it when he didn’t show up.
How worried I was when he skipped a day or just … you know, didn’t even fucking text me.
I hopped on GRINDR but all the dudes were tweeking or way too skinny or way too … not him. They were way too not him.
You know … a fucking asshole.
A fucking asshole that fucked me like no man ever did - ever. And, he did it good. And knew he did it good.
I almost split my apartment that night - almost headed out to the bar - but decided to stay home, get stoned, get hard and get off - and I was just in the process of doing that when pounded on the door and there he was.
It was night, now. He hardly ever showed up in the darkness, but it was dark now.
He usually showed up in the afternoon - he always fucked me in the harsh light of day. But it was dark now - I’d lit candles - I was smoking a blunt, playing with my cock, shoving fingers up my ass … and there he was.
“Fucker,” he said, swaying. He’d been drinking. I could tell. “Started without me.”
“Shut up,” he said, pulling off his shirt. But this time he kicked off his boots, nearly falling over when he did. Then he dropped his pants and stepped out of them. He was naked, except socks, and he was hard as a rock. He approached me, looming. He had a way of looming. He was looming now.
I was about to get an attitude - about to have a moment - about to stand up for myself - and then he said, “Goddammit, suck my cock, Riley - I need to get off. Now.”
That’s more words than he said in about a month - and he never called me by my name so I was down on my knees and he was grabbing my head and this time he was all moves, all smooth moves, all drunken moves - yeah - but good drunken moves. Leg up on the couch, pushing in deep - then pulling out and shoving my face in his balls.
“Fuck yeah - get up in there, kid,” he growled, and I did, licking his balls and then sucking on them.
“Fucking don’t be shy, son - eat em - make me feel it -” and so I did, I went hard at his nuts and now he growled louder, and deeper and more passionately -
“Fuck - fuck - so good - so good to me,” he said, hoarsely, and then he was over me, pulling my face into his ass - a place I had tried to go before but he’d fenced it off.
“Way too gay,” he’d said then, but not now. Now it was way way gay and way gay enough, because his pulled my head into his cleft and I sucked his hole like it was the last hole on earth (something, you know, I been thinking about for a long time) and he cried out, “Oh yeah - fuck yeah! Eat my fucking hole you freak”
And I did - I did - long and hard and deep and then I was being pulled up, losing my frame of reference, lights swirling (cuz I was high, you know, and horned, and being jerked around like a sex doll) and then he’s pushing up against me, full body to full body, and grinding into me and his lips are at my lips and he snarls up - gives me that fucking snarl - like he can smell his butt on me and smell my need for him and he’s both completely turned on by it and totally disgusted by it, and turned on by me and disgusted by himself and maybe he’s just horny as shit and he’s snarling like an animal - a hungry bear or wolf or something - and we stand there like that, time stopping, and he breathes hard and deep and long and then he shoves hard into me, pushing his lips against mine and his tongue down my throat and his beard is scraping my face and he’s stopping me from breathing, he’s kissing me so hard and I’m so surprised I don’t kiss back but then I feel him get mad at me for not kissing back, so I kiss back - hard and long and deep, groaning while I do cuz this shit here - this shit HERE is the answer to all my prayers, the culmination of all my dreams and that goes on for like five minutes - maybe more - and then we slow down and then he’s nuzzling me ….
he’s fucking nuzzling me -
and then he looks at me, straight in the eye and he says,
“You know I love you, right? You know that, Rye - don’t you? That I love you?”
And I just stand there like some stupid teenage fuck - even though I’m like - you know - nearly thirty, but right about now I feel about a decade younger and my tongue’s all tied and I got nothing to say, so I just nod, in a daze, cuz….wtf?
And he steps back, more solid now, naked, the handsomest dude I EVER seen, all that extra weight on him turns me the fuck ON - cuz it’s REAL man meat, not twink-meat or gym-meat but man meat, the best kind of meat, and I’m wondering what the fuck is going on.
And then he looks down, finds the joint that’s gone out, picks it up, lights it in the flame of the candle, takes a long toke - takes another - then another - and the smoke is everywhere now, and then he shot-guns one to me, all naked we are, and it’s the sexiest thing ever, and then he steps back and hands it to me and turns his back on me and starts talking.
“I love you, man. I treat you the way I do because I can. Because every time I go home to Gina I got to pretend to be this nice guy and this sweet dude and I got to pretend to care about her fucking period and about her fucking family and about her fucking job and I don’t give a shit about any of that - I hate her fucking family and her period grosses me the fuck out and I give a SHIT about her job and I tell ya, kid, if I didn’t get off with you before I went home I think I’d just lose my shit, cuz all I want to do is fuck half the time, but getting pussy from here is like withdrawing money from a bank - except it’s not that easy at all - fuck you’re as easy as an ATM but she’s as easy as robbing a Brinks fucking trust - so I got to kiss her and tell her she’s pretty and suck her pussy and lick her tits and hold her an tell her I love her and do all this shit that’s just fucking bullshit cuz all I want to do is fuck. Just fuck. Just … fuck….”
And then he turns and looks at me.
I step away from the wall but he backs off, cuz he’s not done, so I sit down on the sofa and he keeps going.
“And you know what? The sex is better with you. Always. ALWAYS. And you just let me…do…whatever I want. And I fucking love that. And here you are, Riley - here you are on a Friday night, doing EXACTLY what I want to do on a Friday night - kicking back, smoking dope and paying with your dick.”
And he reaches down and starts yanking his thick crank kind of absently, and so I start yanking mine.
“And I’m thinking to myself - what the FUCK am I doing, man? This is better. THIS HERE is BETTER. And I’m thinking being straight sucks because when you’re straight you can’t be a fucking dude - but with dudes you can just be a fucking dude.”
Then he shakes his head, like he’s getting lost in his own thoughts and ideas and so I says to him this:
“I love you, too, Ray. Always have. The reason I let you do the things I know you need to do is because I love you.”
And he looks up and he looks at me and damn if his eyes aren’t all glassy and wet.
“I went home and tried to be the dude she wants me to be, but I was so fucking horned out and she got all mad at me because I wanted to fuck before dinner.”
“‘Gross,’ she says. 'You don’t fuck before dinner.’”
And he gives the best impression of Gina I ever heard - made my laugh almost, but this was not a time for laughter, I’m thinking, so I just smile.
“And I swear to god, kid - I swear to god I nearly blurted right out, 'I fuck Riley before dinner every day of the fucking week and he fucking loves it, you frigid bitch.’”
“And then I split and got drunk and now I’m here.”
He looks at me like it’s my turn to say something.
So, I say: “You had anything to eat yet?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“So … it’s still before dinner, right?”
“So … why don’t fuck me, Ray. Fuck me - like you do?”
I stand up. We look at each other.
“You don’t want me to 'make love’ to you, Rye?”
“Every time you fuck me, stud, you make love to me.”
And he smiles at that, and walks over to me, and grabs me, and picks me up and I wrap my legs around him and he says, “I want to fuck you in your own bed.”
And I just nod and he carries me there like I weigh nothing at all and then the puts me down on the bed and he opens my legs and his face is over mine and his thick cock is at my hole, which is nice and greasy, cuz of my fingers and the lube, and he says to me, “This apartment is way too faggy for me.”
“You moving in?” I asks, kind of joking, but not really.
“This weekend, I hope,” he say, pushing hard against my hole, but he’s thick, so it resists, plus I’m playing with him a bit, clamping down - making him work for it.
“You gonna ask me first, or you just gonna move in?” I say.
“I never ask to fuck you - I just fuck you - so … yeah…” he says, smiling a little, but also giving me just a hint of menace. “I’m just gonna move in.”
“And no I want your ass,” he says, really gruffly. He’s playing, but also he’s not. This is who he is. Who women won’t let him be. But this is who I love, so I keep resisting, because I want him to take it, like he always does, want him to know nothing’s changed, even though everything’s changed.
And so he shoves in, hard and deep, and my throat releases a harsh cry, cuz it hurts - he always does, but this time especially, because I’m fighting back - and he doesn’t care - he never does - and I don’t care - because it’s what I want - and then he’s in, deep, and we fuck all night long.
And we make love, all night long, too.
And the next day he moves in.
Cuz, what am I gonna do - say no?
Author’s Note: One draft, one shot, no re-reads, no re-writes. Just spermed it out and pressed SEND. Hope it doesn’t suck.
Author’s Note Two: Okay - I have no re-read it and re-written it. And it doesn’t suck. Say thank you, fuckers.
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